JOSEPHINE

"I'm sorry, but unfortunately we can't accept any new patients at the moment. But I can put you on the waiting list and we'll get back to you in about nine months," said the receptionist and I crossed the name off my list.

This was the twenty-fourth practice I had called for therapy, and, except for the length of the waiting time, every conversation was the same. "That can't be right," I thought dejectedly, but I thanked the woman, asked her to write me down, and hung up. I had been trying to find a therapist for a week now, but I was starting to think I wouldn't find one. It slowly became more urgent to find someone. A social worker had come to interview me four days ago and was very reassuring about the prospect of therapy. I hadn't told the truth about many things, and Vito, who had stayed with me the whole time, had raised his eyebrows in surprise a few times. Luckily, he didn't say anything about it.

I later learned that the gray-haired social worker was also responsible for the custody matters concerning Domenico, Valentino, Riccardo, and Matteo at the time, so he already knew Vito, which was helpful for our cause. Vito's lawyer, also present at the meeting, later decided that my case had good prospects and that I had done well. Unsure what to say, I smiled at the older man and let Vito continue the conversation. Did that mean I could stay, or just that I didn't have to go back immediately? This question kept my mind in a fuzz.

"How are you getting on?" Domenico leaned over my shoulder to look at the list while I jumped in shock. His grin showed that this was exactly the reaction he was hoping for.

"Not so good, but I'm on a few waiting lists. Maybe I'll be lucky," I replied, trying not to let my rapid pulse show. Inhale, exhale.

He picked up the list to examine it more closely. "They can't be serious. Wait six months? What if you try to shoot yourself again?"

"Then I should contact a hospital or the emergency hotline. And there aren't many therapists who look after young people," I tried to explain, tactically ignoring his blunt statement. Nevertheless, I had to admit that another six months with these fears seemed very long to me. What would happen if they got worse?

"That's ridiculous." Domenico pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and typed in a number, seemingly off the top of his head, before holding it to his ear. It was perhaps three seconds before he spoke again. "J, we need an adolescent therapist."

Whoever J was, the person answered curtly, probably not surprised by Domenico's lack of common small talk. While Domenico held his phone with his left hand, I used the opportunity to get a closer look at his tattoo. It was a snake that seemed to bite when he pressed his thumb and forefinger together. I couldn't help but imagine him grabbing people's necks with his hand and how appropriate this motif was for him. I didn't like the tattoo or snakes in general.

"Funny. For little sandpiper." I looked at him, irritated, and Domenico ignored me. He ended the conversation without saying thank you or goodbye. "That would be settled. I'll let you know if there's anything new."

"May I ask what is meant by 'little sandpiper'?" I asked carefully and received only a meaningful look in response. "Oh! But why?"

"You all got codenames in case someone is listening to conversations they shouldn't. Besides, you're small, the bird is small, so it's a match. What are you up to today?" Domenico folded the piece of paper and then carelessly stuffed it into his pants. He looked casual today in jeans and a black sweater. Did he notice that I was wearing exactly the same thing? I would have liked to ask him more about my code name, especially to find out what the others were called, but on the other hand, it was wiser to know as little as possible. Still, I didn't think I was that small. After all, it wasn't my fault that he was so big.

"The same as every day. Except that I wanted to go to the library with Valentino when he got back. Why are you here? I thought you went away with Vito."

"Lots of questions on such a sunny day, Tiny. I went away with Vito, yes, but unlike him, my meetings tend to take place in the evening. So I thought about what else I could do, only to realize that your day was still more boring than mine." He winked at me. "And now I'm feeling better. What part do you need?"

It wasn't sunny. On the contrary, there were only clouds in the sky all day long. "The third one. Have you read the books too?"

I couldn't imagine Domenico reading in bed as a child, much less being a child at all. In my mind, he and his brother were born as adults. He exhaled deeply. "Not willingly. I had to read them to Matteo when he was younger because he couldn't read that quickly but also didn't want to sleep if he didn't know what happened next. And that little bastard couldn't stay chronological. I always had to read his favorite passages from previous books just to move on from there."

This time I had to grin. I could imagine how much that must have annoyed him. "That's kinda cute."

The look he gave me suggested he didn't find anything cute about it, and I quickly tried to change the subject. "Why did you type in the number? Didn't you save it?"

"I don't have a number saved in case I lose my cell phone. And it's not that difficult to remember a few numbers." We had different opinions; I didn't even know my number by heart. "And you should also at least know Vito's number and my number, just in case you need to call us and don't have your cell phone with you."

"It sounds like we're in danger," I murmured quietly, pulling my legs up to rest my chin on them.

Domenico sighed as he scratched his chin. "What we're doing is dangerous too, but simple precautions like these can make a difference. That doesn't mean you or the others are in immediate danger, just that we're being careful. Why do you think everyone's in such an expensive school? It offers the most security. You don't even notice many of the other security measures we took to secure everyone, and that's right; just because we do what we do, the influence on you should be as small as possible."

I remained silent because, although I understood the why, I had difficulty implementing it. Did that mean I was under surveillance wherever I was? All the time? I could understand that you had to sacrifice freedom for security, but that didn't mean I wanted to sacrifice my freedom too. On the contrary, my wish for freedom was the reason why I endured homelessness. So was it all worth it?

"Tiny, if you want to say something about this, then you should. After all, it affects you too." He looked at me expectantly, but I kept my thoughts to myself. After a few moments, he spoke again. "I won't lie; the change demands a lot from you, but I ask you to give it a chance. It's something different with you than with Riccardo or Matteo, and we don't know what that means yet because we're in the process of getting to know each other more and more. Of course, it would have been best if we had met under different circumstances, but those can't be changed anymore. The only thing I can offer you is to be honest with you as much as I can."

"Do you expect the same from me?" I asked cautiously.

"Everything you say should be true, but not everything true should be said," came back as an answer, and I couldn't help but smile.

"That's by Voltaire."

"What does that mean?" I asked, and Crazy Carl laughed as he took a sip from his bottle.

"That sometimes it's better to keep your mouth shut. You should remember that, boy! It's an important lesson in life." He took another sip. We sat on the edge of the park; the sun was shining, and we had found a safe place for the last night. I saw in the distance how life was slowly coming to the city: men excitedly talking on their phones in suits, women hurriedly trying to catch their trains, parents walking through the park with small children and taking them tightly by the hand when they saw us.

"Ah, what a beautiful day it is. Watch out, old Sherly is coming over there. Good woman, good woman, but I wouldn't lie down with her at night, you know? She's just waiting for the next guy to take his health and money just for the next shot." Sherly was a middle-aged woman who must have once been beautiful. But her face was scarred by drugs and life on the street. If she smiled, you would see the four missing teeth that a customer had knocked out. I wouldn't go so far as to say we were friends, but I liked her. I couldn't say whether it was mutual or not.

"There are no friends on the street," Carl had said, and I took it to heart. "There are only alliances made up of vultures."

Next to me, Carl continued to drink his cheap liquor while I began to look in my backpack for a sandwich that a man had given me yesterday. It had taken a lot of restraint not to eat it straight away, but I did it. It tasted fantastic.

"How do you know that?" Domenico asked me in surprise, bringing me back from my memories.

I looked at him, still smiling. "From a friend. He knew a lot of stuff like that."

"Sounds like he's a wise man," he said, somehow interested.

I thought of the man to whom I probably owed my survival. I thought about his wrinkled face, the constant smell of alcohol and cigarettes, his laughter when he found something funny, and my gratitude towards him. "That he was."



Hello there!

How are you doing? Finally the days are getting longer, but boy do I miss the sun.

I came to the realisation that I can't include everything I planned for this story in this one and now I keep thinking wether I should write a sequel ones I'm done or make those scenes as an bonus. But luckily it will take a while till I have to make a decision :-) What do you want to happen/read?

See you soon!